


Still the Bells Ring

by SouthSideStory



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Daenerys POV, F/M, canon compliant through The Bells, this is not a fix it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-23 12:16:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23711359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SouthSideStory/pseuds/SouthSideStory
Summary: It was not so long ago that Jon had touched her in passion, and now he spoke of bedding her as though it were a chore. He did not want to be king, and wanted to be her husband even less, but he was dutiful. He wouldn't fail the Six Kingdoms.If she still loved him, did that make it half a love match?No. A foolish question. Love by half was not love at all.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 24
Kudos: 70





	Still the Bells Ring

**Author's Note:**

> As the tags say, this is not a fix it fic, even though it completely disregards that (god awful) finale. I wrote this shortly after Game of Thrones finished because I had so many feels about Dany destroying King’s Landing, and the pure *angst* that would be Jonerys had she lived past 8x05. But I was still grieving over Dany’s character assassination and death, as well as how terrible the ending of GoT was, and didn’t have the heart to post it. So be warned: this is Jonerys, but it’s not a happy story.

Theirs was not a love match. It could have been, under other circumstances. Had Samwell Tarly kept his mouth shut. Had she heeded the bells the day she'd taken King's Landing. But Sam had told Jon the truth, and Dany had made herself queen of the ashes.

So here they were, husband and wife, lying back to back on their wedding night.

"We need to consummate the marriage," Dany said, as delicately as she could. As if the words were glass, liable to shatter if spoken too forcefully. "Or it isn't binding."

"I know," Jon said, his voice even. "I'll do my duty."

It was not so long ago that he'd touched her in passion, and now he spoke of bedding her as though it were a chore.

Jon did not want to be king, and wanted to be her husband even less, but it was as he'd said. He was dutiful. He wouldn't fail the Six Kingdoms.

If she still loved him, did that make it half a love match?

No. A foolish question. Love by half was not love at all.

Dany sat up, pulled her nightdress over her head, and pushed Jon onto his back. He looked up at her with wide, dark eyes. The apple of his throat bobbed as he swallowed, and she had the stray desire to kiss it. Would he allow that now? Was tenderness permitted, or did he merely wish to have the thing over and done with?

When she tugged down his smallclothes, he flinched, and she could see the lust and revulsion warring within him, plain on his face and in the tension that wound his body. It might be the blood they shared that repulsed him so, but Dany knew better. It was _her_ he found vile, and the ashes she'd left in her wake, far more than their shared heritage.

Dany touched Jon's cheek, and thought of her brother, Rhaegar. He had loved a Stark so deeply that he'd torn apart his family and his kingdoms for her. Fire doomed to love ice. At least Rhaegar's winter rose had wanted him back.

Jon pulled Dany onto his lap. He was barely hard, and she wasn't wet at all, but he set about amending both of those things. He stroked his cock with his left hand and used his right to caress her between her legs, his clever fingers quick to find the right rhythm. They'd only made love a handful of times on the ship, and twice more on the road leading to Winterfell, but Jon had learned her with ease. Daario had been a skilled lover, and Drogo had been her sun and stars, but Jon—gods, Jon was her match in this, as in all things. A few simple touches had her panting, her body feeling alive in a way that only fucking or flying could ever manage.

He was hard now, and Jon let her take him in hand, then guide him inside her. Dany gasped at the fullness, at being had for the first time in months. He was big, and they hadn't bothered to open her for his cock, but the slight pain lacing through the pleasure felt right. A small punishment, the least she deserved.

_Love comes in at the eyes_ , Doreah had told her a lifetime ago.

But when Dany looked in Jon's eyes, she found only grudging desire and poorly hidden disgust. He wanted her, but hated himself for it, and Dany's need hardened into something mean and spiteful. She rode him with all the skill she possessed, forgetting her own pleasure for the sake of drawing out his. If lust was all that remained of Jon's feelings for her, then by gods, she would not let him forget it.

He grunted, thrusting up to meet her. He was so beautiful when he was weak, her husband. Even more so when he spilled inside her, gasping her name.

Dany brushed his black curls away from his face.

"You have prettier hair than me," she said playfully.

Jon made a soft sound, almost a laugh, his serious face split by a smile. Only for a moment, though, and then he looked dour again.

"You didn't finish," he said brusquely. "Would you like me to—?"

"No."

Dany ached for more, but Jon didn't want to touch her, not truly. He was simply a good man who felt guilty for not bringing his wife the same pleasure he'd found. Even if he did despise her.

She climbed off of him and crawled to the edge of the bed, under the covers, suddenly cold. Even being raped had not left her feeling so adrift and empty. At least then she'd had _hope_.

Dany did not sleep for a long time, and when she did, her dreams were full of fire and smoke and the relentless ringing of the bells.


End file.
